


Intermediate Character Work: A Study in Sequels

by biggod



Series: Character Work [2]
Category: Community (TV), Mythic Quest: Raven's Banquet (TV)
Genre: Brad Bakshi - Referenced, But only a tiny bit, Dirty Talk, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Handcuffs, Knifeplay, Light BDSM, M/M, Morning Sex, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Roleplay, Sex Toys, Teasing, i would recommend reading part one of this series first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:22:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26414104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biggod/pseuds/biggod
Summary: Abed has a bad day. He calls in a friend to help him unwind.or, the Brad roleplay sequel I've been asked for.
Relationships: Troy Barnes/Abed Nadir
Series: Character Work [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1919905
Comments: 10
Kudos: 150





	Intermediate Character Work: A Study in Sequels

**Author's Note:**

> this is a surprise for my loves in the server. you know who you are.
> 
> special thanks to grace and jeremy for the feedback, and for being excellent at keeping this secret!
> 
> if you haven't read part one, Character Development in the Modern Marriage, i would recommend reading it first.

Abed sighs fondly and stares at the ceiling.

Troy has tangled himself so tightly around Abed that his pajamas are leaving pressure marks in Abed’s stomach. His nose is buried in Abed’s neck just below the ear, breath warm and steady against his skin, and he’s twined one leg above Abed’s and the other below. His arm is stretched so far across Abed’s body that he’s wrapped around it, Troy’s hand resting flat underneath Abed’s spine.

“Troy,” Abed tries again softly. Troy’s nose twitches, but he doesn’t respond.

Abed suspects that Troy is more conscious than he wants to let on. He starts by attempting to shift his leg slowly out of its prison; when that doesn’t work, he grasps Troy’s elbow where it’s lodged by his ribs and gently pulls Troy’s forearm out from under his own back.

“ _Aaabed_ ,” Troy groans, using his now freed hand to pat around on the pillow until he locates Abed’s face, then presses his palm to Abed’s mouth. “Shhh.”

“I wasn’t saying anything,” Abed says, muffled.

“Go back to sleep.” Troy nuzzles deeper into Abed’s neck.

Abed lifts Troy’s hand off of his mouth, once again working to extricate his leg.

“I have to go to the studio,” he says apologetically.

“Five more minutes,” Troy whines.

“You said that,” Abed, now with slightly improved range of motion, cranes his neck to see the bedside clock, “ninety-six minutes ago.”

“...Irrelevant.”

“The longer I take to go, the longer it’ll be before I’m back,” Abed reasons.

“If I don’t let you go, you don’t have to come back at all.”

“Sound reasoning. Almost as if you’ve been awake for more than thirty seconds.”

Troy is suspiciously silent.

“It’s a short day,” Abed promises. “I just need to read through some script edits.”

“Other people can read stuff,” Troy grumbles, but he’s softening his hold on Abed’s leg.

“If anyone could do it, they wouldn’t pay me to.”

Troy gives up and rolls onto his back. Abed finds he misses him immediately. He studies Troy's expression for a moment, gets distracted by the way the light catches his jaw, the way he blinks himself awake, the small yawn he lets out.

“I dreamt we were in Brave Little Toaster,” Troy says, staring at the ceiling warily.

“Who were we from Brave Little Toaster?” Abed is trying to listen, but fails.

“We were us,” Troy says, like it should be obvious. “I never saw the movie, the trailer gave me nightmares. I hated the idea of appliances that can snitch on you.”

He nods to himself, and doesn’t elaborate.

Troy is caught off guard when Abed rolls on top of him and catches him in a kiss, and Troy immediately moves to hold him closer. It only takes moments to turn open-mouthed and wanting; Troy moans, voice scratchy with sleep, and can feel Abed stiffening against his thigh at the sound. Troy grips Abed’s shoulder tightly and rolls his hips.

Abed begins a trail of sloppy kisses down the column of Troy’s neck, reaching down to hike Troy’s t-shirt as far up his chest as it will go. He rolls one of Troy’s nipples between his fingertips, nipping and kissing his way down Troy’s chest, pausing to leave a mark in the hollow of his hip bone. Troy’s gasps and hums grow more erratic the lower Abed moves.

Abed tugs at Troy’s waistband until Troy lifts his hips, allowing Abed to pull off his sleep shorts and boxers together. Abed tosses them on the floor and leans immediately back down, taking Troy expertly into his mouth and earning a long moan for it. His hands slide under Troy’s ass and he squeezes hard. Troy tangles his fingers into Abed’s hair.

Abed’s hands slip down Troy’s thighs to grip the back of his knees, lifting them up so Troy’s feet rest flat on the bed. He licks his thumb and drops it down between Troy’s cheeks, massaging gently around his rim, dipping his thumb just inside. He returns his mouth to the head of Troy’s cock, and Troy’s sounds become high and breathy.

Abed keeps him like this for a couple of minutes, warming him up, soft and slow. Troy is humming with an occasional hitch in his breath when Abed’s mouth dips lower or thumb dips deeper. Eventually Abed pauses, leaning up Troy’s body, and offers him two fingers; Troy takes them into his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue lasciviously around them. When he’s finished, Abed kisses him, and he gets lost in it for a moment before he shifts back down between Troy’s legs.

He looks at Troy with dark eyes before he ducks his head down and licks inside him. Troy whines, arching when one of Abed’s hands returns to wrap lightly around his length. Abed slides one finger inside of Troy next to his tongue, working him open to the tune of his whimpers.

By the time Abed adds the second finger, Troy is nearly breathless, his tensed thighs and wandering hands sure signs of the slow build of pleasure. Abed swirls his tongue and curls his fingers to massage that spot that always makes Troy cry out - and he does, spilling into Abed’s hand moments later.

Abed lets him ride it out before he eases his fingers out, murmuring encouragement, pressing a kiss to Troy’s trembling thigh. When he climbs back up the bed, Troy starts to reach for his waistband.

“Hold on,” Abed says softly, reaching past the edge of the bed to the nightstand. He withdraws a dark purple plug and holds it up in Troy’s line of vision, raising an eyebrow and waiting for a response.

Troy’s eyes light up, but then he pauses.

“Are you sure? I can…” He gestures to Abed’s obvious arousal.

“I’m good,” Abed says, leaning in to kiss Troy. He’s still sleep-warm and slow, and Abed finds it intoxicating. “I like the anticipation.”

“Yeah, you do.” Troy smiles, brushing his fingertip across Abed’s cheekbone. “Then yes, absolutely.”

Abed kisses his cheek and returns to the end of the bed; he spreads Troy’s cheeks again, pauses, and leans in to circle his rim once more with his tongue. Troy’s gasp is high and sweet, and he grabs at the sheets to ground himself, oversensitive. Abed buries his smile in Troy’s thigh.

He presses the plug in carefully. Troy shifts a little, adjusting, as Abed kisses Troy’s knee and slides off the bed.

Troy whines, reaching out for Abed as he makes his way to the bathroom.

“I really do need to go to the studio,” Abed says.

Troy pouts. Abed sighs, stepping over Troy’s discarded shorts and leaning over the bed to kiss him one more time.

When he’s finished, Abed pulls the blanket back over Troy, hands Troy his pillow to hold, and kisses his temple.

“Go back to sleep. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

Troy hums and closes his eyes.

\---

Abed left at 11am. He’s usually only at the studio for two or three hours on days like this, but it’s nearly 3:30; not enough time to worry, but enough for Troy to text and check in.

_troy, 3:26pm_

_everything good?_

_abed, 3:28pm_

_yeah_

_well_

_yeah, it will be_

_i’m heading home now_

_be there soon_

Troy frowns at his phone.

_troy, 3:29pm_

_ok, love u_

Abed is up front when something is bothering him. His vagueness means it’s something he’s not ready to talk about but is deeply bothered by, and he could be anywhere on the spectrum from slightly perturbed to full emotional shutdown when he gets home.

Troy opens the phone app and gets off the couch, dialing on the way to the kitchen. He checks the cabinet for honey and walnuts.

\---

Troy is in the kitchen, surrounded by the notes he’s scrawled out on a pile of napkins, when he hears the key turning in the lock, the door swinging open and then quietly closing, the keys clinking as they’re dropped in the bowl. He moves carefully off his stool and walks into the living room, smiling softly, and stops short.

Abed’s not there, but Brad is, one hand in his pocket, the other resting on the side table. The bastard went and got a _new sweater_ \- perhaps that’s why Abed was gone so long - and this one’s solid black; so are his slacks, for that matter. He looks vaguely amused as the grin fades from Troy’s face.

“What’s up,” Troy says, unsure what to do with his hands, trying very hard to be cool and failing.

Brad often narrows his eyes when he smiles, and it makes Troy feel like he’s being studied. He does this now, closing the distance between them, scanning Troy’s face with a subtle tilt of the head. His body is pressed just close enough for Troy to feel the brush of cashmere against his t-shirt. Troy’s breath catches in his chest.

Brad grazes a nail lightly across Troy’s cheekbone, traces down his jaw to the point of his chin, tipping Troy’s face up towards his own, breathing in Troy’s shaky exhale.

He then breaks the tension by reaching up and booping Troy’s nose, smiling easily as Troy’s brain visibly short-circuits. Brad brushes past him, smacking his ass hard on the way and drawing a surprised squeak from Troy.

Brad crosses the room to Abed’s office door, swings it open, and then looks back. Troy is still experiencing whiplash from Brad’s mind games, but turns when Brad whistles at him.

“You coming?” he asks, tilting his head to the door in invitation.

Troy’s brain finally catches up with him, and he realizes that whatever’s bothering Abed, he’s found a way to vent that frustration in a way that makes sense to him. Troy grins and follows.

The door closes softly behind Troy, and he decides at the last second to flip the script; he whirls around, intending to kiss him against the door, but Brad sees him coming. He uses Troy’s momentum to spin him and push him against the wall. Brad grabs Troy’s face in his hand and leans in close, reaching down to palm Troy’s dick through his pants.

“You are not the one in control here.”

Brad kisses him fiercely, swallowing Troy’s cry, making his head spin. He pulls Troy across the room until he hits the desk on the far wall, leaning back on it casually and sliding his hands up from Troy’s waist to his shoulders.

“On your knees,” he says callously.

Troy sighs contentedly at the command and drops, unbuttoning Brad’s slacks and freeing his cock. Troy takes him into his mouth immediately, and Brad weaves his fingers into Troy’s hair and sighs. Troy enthusiastically sets to work, licking down his length, massaging his tongue rhythmically over the sensitive underside. Brad tilts his head back and moans. 

Troy looks up at him then, sees the way the afternoon sun comes through the window behind him, illuminates the back of his head like a halo; he takes in his closed eyes, the slight part of his lips, the tight line of his jaw, and suddenly it isn’t enough. Troy breathes deep and takes him all the way into his throat.

Brad bites his lip and pulls Troy’s head back to thrust sharply back in, and Troy times his breaths and maintains his angle to keep from gagging as Brad sets a punishing pace. His eyes are watering, throat burning, and he’s so turned on it hurts.

Suddenly Brad grips one of his wrists and moves it from where it rests on his thigh down to Troy’s neck, presses Troy’s palm against his own throat.

“Can you feel it?” he hisses, and Troy nods, which almost makes him gag. He _can_ feel it, choking him from the inside, feels it moving in his throat under his hand. He hums.

Brad pulls Troy off of his cock without warning, and Troy gasps loudly, wetly, his chest heaving. He rests his forehead against Brad’s thigh to catch his breath. Brad’s fingers are still in his hair, and he pulls Troy’s head back to look at his face; Troy moans at the tugging sensation and meets his eyes.

Brad reaches his other hand out and grazes it along Troy’s cheek, thumb brushing over his swollen lips, and for just a moment he thinks Brad’s composure has slipped. He’s breathing a bit hard himself, eyes dilated and wide. Then he shifts, and the light from the window behind him hits Troy’s eyes, and Brad is studying him with a calculating gaze, watching him pant and lean into all the places he’s being touched.

“You are such a fucking slut,” he says, and Troy full-body shudders. Brad tucks himself back into his slacks. “Get up. Pants off.”

Troy stands shakily, kicking off his pants. Brad grabs his ass aggressively and kisses him, nipping at his lip bruisingly. He maneuvers Troy backwards until he’s trapped against the other branch of the desk, and Troy gasps as the plug jostles inside him. Brad slides his hands down beneath Troy’s upper thighs and lifts him onto the desktop.

Brad reaches into the desk drawer and withdraws four objects: a pair of handcuffs, a bottle of lube, a vibrating dildo, and a knife. Troy’s eyes widen. When he looks up, Abed has folded his hands together.

“Are you good with this today?” he asks softly, cupping Troy’s cheek.

“Yeah,” he breathes, kissing Abed’s wrist. “Very. But when did you--”

“This morning.”

“You planned this from the beginning,” Troy says in mock indignation.

“Not all of it. But this part, yes.”

“But why would--”

“I love you,” Abed says simply. “I wanted to do something special for you, so.”

Abed gestures down at himself. Troy smiles.

“I love it. You look like a sexy villain.”

Abed laughs. Troy kisses him, wrapping his arms around Abed’s neck, and when hands move from tracing down his back to gripping and dragging his hips to the edge of the desk, Troy knows Brad is back.

Brad stands between Troy’s legs and pulls him as close as possible without breaking the kiss, and Troy locks his ankles behind Brad’s thighs. His arms are pulled down and both of his wrists are taken into one of Brad’s hands; he hears shuffling on the desk surface, and before he knows it, soft rubber lining is closing around his wrists and the handcuffs are clicking into place. 

“Mine now,” Brad hums.

“Yeah,” Troy breathes, and opens his eyes. Caught under Brad’s intense stare, Troy feels pinned down, exposed. He relishes it.

“On your stomach,” Brad orders, stepping back. Troy hops off the desk and bends over it, giving his ass a less than subtle sway on the way down.

Troy expects Brad to remove the plug without warning, but that isn’t what happens. Instead, the dildo appears in front of him, Brad’s voice commanding, “Suck.”

Troy opens his mouth and obeys, gasping when Brad pulls the plug halfway out before pressing it in again, repeating, warming him up, timing it with the gentle rhythm of the toy in Troy’s mouth.

It doesn’t last long. Brad removes the plug, and Troy drops his forehead to the desk and takes several deep breaths as he hears the pop of the lube cap. There’s a slick sound, a hand presses down on the small of his back, and Troy moans, long and wanton, as the dildo pushes inside him.

He waits, expecting it rough, but once again Brad subverts his expectations.

“Up,” he says, and slaps Troy’s ass.

Troy stands as well as he can, which is to say very awkwardly and not without some embarrassing noises, and Brad sits him right back into the same spot as before. He then sets Troy’s hands to rest on his knees, picks up a short length of thin chain from the drawer and clips one end to the handcuffs, the other to the drawer handle.

Then he sits down in the office chair and rolls to the corner of the desk, further away from Troy, and turns on the monitor.

Troy watches incredulously as he pulls up his email. He waits patiently as he responds to one, then two in a row. He’s hard, shifting restlessly to try to generate some kind of stimulation, and this dildo isn’t even as big as Abe- as Brad is, and finally he can’t take it.

Brad is not looking at him, not even facing him, so Troy has no idea how he knows exactly when Troy decides to speak, but right as he opens his mouth, Brad raises his hand. He’s holding a small black remote. He presses a button, and the dildo comes to life, jumping straight to a middle speed; Troy’s mouth is already open to release a filthy moan.

Troy doesn’t know how long he stays like that, how many emails and spreadsheets Brad views, but his fidgeting gives way to writhing, groans turn to whimpers. It’s too much, but not enough of the way he needs it, so he’s stuck in a limbo of impossible arousal with nowhere to go. He tugs at the chain once or twice, but he can’t reach his dick.

“Hey,” Brad says, and Troy snaps to attention desperately, only to fill with despair when he sees Brad’s cell phone in his hand. “Keep it down for a minute.”

He hits the dial button and leans back in his chair, turning fully to face Troy and propping an ankle on his knee. He watches Troy intently.

Troy tries to keep quiet, but every exhale comes out a whine. He forces himself to breathe shallowly, tries to angle himself to get the least amount of pressure possible, but it’s _inside him_ and it’s _vibrating_ and he really doesn’t know how not to feel that.

He hears Brad on the phone, but can’t make out what he’s saying; all he hears is static, and all of his energy is going to repressing the sounds that want to spill out of him.

Brad turns up the speed.

A sob escapes Troy, and he presses his bound hands to his mouth a moment too late. He has to lean forward to reach his hands, due to the short chain, and the shift in pressure chokes him even more.

Suddenly Brad is there, grabbing him by the chin and lifting his head up to face him.

“I told you to stay quiet, slut,” he whispers, smiling cruelly. “Didn’t I?”

Troy nods, and then he realizes there are tears in his eyes. Brad wipes one off of his cheek.

“Color.”

Brad’s the one who says it, but Troy knows that if he were to say yellow or red, Abed would be here in an instant, soothing him, asking what he needs. It’s a nice thought.

“Green,” he says instead, without hesitation. The moment passes, and the scene shifts gears.

Brad claims his mouth in a possessive kiss, and Troy tries to pull him closer but meets resistance from the handcuffs. He whines. Brad bites his lip but soothes it instantly with his tongue.

When Brad pulls away, he reaches for the knife. It’s a small silver dagger they got for a pirate scene, and it’s sharp enough on one side to cut through fabric while completely dull on the other. When Brad unsheathes it, he very subtly tests the edges with his thumb and positions it ever so carefully; he lifts Troy’s shirt and slides the blade beneath it, the brush of cool metal against Troy’s skin making him shiver. He cuts the shirt off of Troy, leaving him naked.

“I liked that shirt,” Troy says, in a moment of boldness.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” Brad says, coming back in for another kiss, resting the blunt edge against Troy’s throat, and for some reason it’s the hottest thing Troy’s ever heard. He moans, shaking with need, and it doesn’t go unnoticed.

“If you’re good, I’ll buy you more,” Brad adds. “If you’ll keep being a whore for me.”

Troy gasps and shudders. Abed might be on to something here.

Brad reaches down and unclips the chain from Troy’s handcuffs, letting it fall. He reaches for the lube again with urgency.

“Roll over. Now,” he says, and Troy does, whining with the movement.

He gets no warning before the dildo is removed, but he didn’t expect any. Brad is not exactly caring with his partners, and Troy likes that; he likes it even more when he remembers that he’s the only person Brad ever fucks, that Brad only exists for him.

Troy is bracing himself against the desk, arms outstretched in front of him, hands holding the edge as best they’re able - but when Brad finally, _finally_ enters him, Troy’s fingers scramble for a better grip. He buries himself deep inside Troy, bending over him to mouth at the back of his neck, before he picks up the slamming, merciless pace that Troy has come to expect from him.

The desk is digging into his abs, and Troy can’t quite breathe, and it’s everything Troy has been craving: filthy, rough, too much. It takes no time at all before he’s screaming and babbling and he has no idea what he’s saying, but Brad is sweating, swearing under his breath, whispering _fuck, you’re so fucking good_ in his ear, and the moment Brad wraps his hand around Troy’s cock and pumps him once, it’s over. Troy crashes over the edge, eyes rolling back, a stream of _yes_ and _god_ and _fuck_ escaping him.

Brad doesn’t let up after Troy has come, and he’s sensitive and overstimulated and he thinks he’s crying, but he wails and chants _yeah_ and _please_ until Brad follows behind him, biting into his shoulder with a cry.

Troy’s eyes are squeezed shut, and he’s catching his breath when Abed kisses the bite mark, trailing his hands soothingly up and down Troy’s sides. He pulls out gently, pressing another kiss to his lower back when Troy whines.

Abed pats his hip lightly, and Troy rolls onto his side, pulling his legs up onto the desk. Abed walks around the corner and kneels, level with Troy’s head, kissing his forehead and stroking his hair.

“Are you alright?” Abed keeps his voice low and calm.

Troy nods, smiling. He meets Abed’s eyes and cranes towards him, and Abed gets the message, leaning in to kiss him softly. He tenderly takes Troy's hands, removes the handcuffs, rubs at his wrists soothingly.

Abed stands, walking back around the desk and reaching underneath to withdraw the fluffy white blanket Troy likes for aftercare. He lays the blanket over Troy, then gathers him up in his arms and carries him out of the office, out to the couch. Abed sets him down gently in the center, wraps the rest of the blanket securely around him, and checks for another nod before he leaves the room. He returns in pajamas with a glass of water, a candy bar, and more pajamas for Troy, which he leaves on the coffee table until Troy is ready.

The minute Abed sits sideways in the corner of the couch, Troy is in his space, settling comfortably between his legs, head on his chest. Abed presses a kiss to the top of his head and winds his arms tightly around Troy.

They lie like this for a while, Abed rubbing gentle circles in his skin. Troy thinks he might have dozed off for a bit, but it’s hard to tell when everything feels warm and heady and a bit like a dream.

It’s Troy who eventually breaks the quiet.

“Are you feeling better?” He asks, propping his chin on Abed’s chest. Abed looks a little surprised.

“Yeah,” he says, after a moment. “I am. Are you?”

“I’m great.” Troy smiles sleepily.

“You knew something was wrong while I was at the studio.”

“I mean, I didn’t know _what_ , but you were obviously processing some stuff when you texted me.”

“And you didn’t mind this being how I did it?”

“Abed,” Troy says, looking very serious, “You understand there were no downsides to that scenario for me, right?”

Abed raises an eyebrow and waits.

“It helped you feel better, and, I’m assuming, more in control. And I had an _awesome_ time. Win-win.”

Abed laughs lightly.

“Besides,” Troy adds, “My other strategy was kind of intimidating.”

“Does this have to do with the mess in the kitchen?”

“Yeah.” Troy buries his face in Abed’s shirt, embarrassed. His voice comes out a little muffled as a result.

“I was trying to make you baklava. The falafel place you like on Martin Street is closed today, so I called your dad and he tried to talk me through it. I don’t think it was going well though.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and Troy doesn’t know what to think - that is, until Abed’s hands are lifting Troy’s face, cradling his cheeks. His eyes are wide and glassy.

“You got my father to share his baklava recipe with you.”

Troy nods, growing concerned. His fingers tighten imperceptibly in Abed’s pajama shirt.

“And you were going to make it for me because I had a bad day.”

“Yeah. Should I not have…?”

Abed presses his lips together and swallows. His thumb caresses Troy’s cheekbone lightly.

“That was very sweet,” he says, and his throat sounds so tight and his eyes are so watery that Troy simply has to climb up higher on the couch and wrap his arms around Abed, pressing a kiss to his cheek along the way. He feels Abed tuck his face into Troy’s neck and breathe deeply for several moments.

Once Abed’s grip loosens, Troy lets his own relax and leans back just enough to be able to see Abed.

“Do you want to tell me what happened today?” Troy asks softly, running his fingers through Abed’s hair in the pattern he likes.

“They butchered my movie,” Abed says slowly. “They wanted to make my lead white.”

Troy pulls back a fraction more, dumbfounded.

“They want one of the Marvel Chrises.”

“ _Dude._ ”

“I told them absolutely not, that it was non-negotiable, so they said they’d cut my funding in half.”

Troy looks like he’s about to get very upset, so Abed raises his hand.

“They’re bluffing, they’ve signed too much paperwork. Steph says she can get me my budget back. It was just… not a good day.” Abed traces his fingertip from Troy’s temple to his jaw. “But you…”

He trails off, clears his throat lightly.

“Thank you,” he says softly.

Troy kisses Abed’s forehead and slips back down into a resting position. They’re contentedly quiet for a while.

“Did you buy new Brad clothes just for this?” Troy asks, and maybe it’s the high that hasn’t worn off or the emotional vulnerability they’ve just been through, but he inexplicably starts laughing at the thought. Abed giggles too, and Troy looks up, watches the moment unfold, and decides he wants to live in it forever.

“Yeah,” Abed says, still laughing, “I changed in the mall bathroom. My clothes are still in the car.”

Troy wheezes at this, pressing his ear to Abed’s collarbone to feel how his body shakes with joy.

“Worth it,” Troy says, wiping a tear from under his eye. Then he gasps.

“Answering your _emails?_ For real?”

“Hold that thought,” Abed says, reaching towards the coffee table where he left his phone. He unlocks it, scrolls for a moment, and then presents his text messages to Troy.

_Steph, 4:42pm_

_Hey, can you clarify your last email? No offense, but it was complete gibberish._

Troy cackles, clapping a hand over his mouth when it comes out louder than expected. He looks at Abed.

“Was that because of me?”

“You don’t think it’s easy to listen to you like that, do you?” Abed blinks. “This whole thing was a massive test of patience.”

“Well, that’s good to know.” Troy grins. “What about the phone call?”

“That was just to your voicemail.”

“I can’t wait to hear it,” he says, and means it. He leans up once more and kisses Abed, slow and deep, brushing noses when he pulls away.

“Want to teach me how to make baklava?” Troy asks. Abed’s face lights up in a soft, adoring smile.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Let’s do that.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @nadir-barnes.


End file.
